I travel light; as light, that is, as a man can travel who will still carry his body around because of its sentimental value.

Poetry is the language in which man explores his own amazement... says heaven and earth in one word... speaks of himself and his predicament as though for the first time.

What, after all,is a halo? It's only one more thing to keep clean.

An artist's sensitivity to criticism is, at least in part, an effort to keep unimpaired the zest, or confidence, or arrogance, which he needs to make creation possible; or an instinct to climb through his problems in his own way as he should, and must.

I travel light; as light, that is, as a man can travel who will still carry his body around because of its sentimental value.

My trouble is I'm the sort of writer who only finds out what he's getting at by the time he's got to the end of it.

The skirts of the gods Drag in our mud. We feel the touch And take it to be a kiss.